


white sands

by sinead



Category: Marvel Avengers Movies Universe, The Avengers (2012)
Genre: Established Relationship, Friendship, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-09-08
Updated: 2012-09-08
Packaged: 2017-11-13 20:13:39
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,124
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/507303
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sinead/pseuds/sinead
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"We're taking a day off, so I suggest you lighten up, buttercup," Tony said.</p>
            </blockquote>





	white sands

"Where are we going again?" Bruce asks. They are flying above the cloud cover, and all he can tell is that they are heading west.

"Uh-uh, I refuse to spoil the surprise," Tony says. "We're taking a day off, so I suggest you lighten up, buttercup."

The Quinjet touches down lightly on the desert floor. Once the whine of the engines dies, the silence outside is absolute. There is very little wind, and even if there were some, there is nothing to mark its passage with a sound--not a tree, not a bush in sight. Some distant hills and even more distant mountains are visible, but mostly it's just sand and dirt and rock. Tony has spent half his life in places like this, and he doesn't especially like them anymore, if he ever did--but he understands them. He knows what they're for; lands stripped of their memory, where anything is permissable.

"I get the feeling that we're about to be arrested for trespassing," Bruce says mildly. "And maybe military espionage."

"Naaahhh, Stark Industries paid for like, half the facilities here," Tony says. "We may not be in the business anymore, but that still gets us some perks. And anyway, this zone is too hot for anybody but a guy possessing biochemistry that's impervious to radiation. Or another guy with a brilliantly engineered metal suit. Which I need to put on before we get out, so. Wait here for a second."

Bruce hits the button to lower the ramp when Tony is suited up, and the two of them walk down it side by side. Bruce strolls a little way out and then stops, standing silent for a moment while he looks at the line of hills. "It was not too far south of here."

"Yeah," Tony says. "That's in your file, too."

"So, you thought we should come here," Bruce says. "To, um, relax?"

"Things have been quiet for the team for a while now, not that I'm complaining about the lack of ball-crushing terror and destruction, but the last time the big guy came out to play I thought he looked a little peaky. I'm not sure that Manhattan agrees with him. So--" Tony gestures wide, to the desolate landscape around them. "Everybody likes to go back home once in a while."

"I can't say I ever thought of it that way," Bruce says drily.

"C'mon, you can let your hair down. Since we are quite literally off the map."

"Did you have some leisure activities in mind?" Bruce asks.

The Iron Man suit can't change expressions; Tony sometimes thinks that's a drawback he ought to address, because right now he knows his grin is one of evil glee, and Bruce would appreciate it. "Wait 'til you see what I brought."

What Tony has brought is something like a cross between a Hulk-sized volleyball and a handball, made of super-strong polymer with special properties. It will practically bounce to the moon if hit hard enough. Bruce leaves his clothes in a folded pile at the foot of the ramp, and--they play a game. It takes Tony a few tries to convey the purpose of the ball to the Hulk, but soon he is zipping around and setting it up so that Hulk can spike it, leaping in the air and shaking the ground when he lands. Eventually he hits the ball so hard he really does smash it; he roars triumphantly and then abruptly looks crushed. His expression is both comical and oddly poignant as he pokes at the flattened disc of the ball, and Tony stills, watching him--until his face twists in a familiar way and he pounds both fists into the ground, sending up clouds of dust and sand.

"Whoa, whoa, okay, I've got something else, hang on," he says hurriedly, and produces the other ball he'd brought. Another of his own designs, of course--this one is enormous, bouncy and resilient, and it has handles. And oh, Hulk goes a little crazy, grabbing it and figuring out how to sit on it and bounce, and then flopping over it and gripping with fingers and toes so that he can roll around and around. Tony hovers in the air and stays out of his way, just watching. In the end, the ball is intact, but he's lying flat on the ground--lying on the glassy shards of former missile strikes and the bleached bones of dessicated pickleweed and mesquite--panting and smiling. It's not the usual ferocious baring of his teeth, but something smaller and altogether more rare. Tony drops down gently next to him and puts a gauntleted hand on his head.

"'s good, big guy?" he asks.

"Toh-nee," says the Hulk, the syllables rusty and unused. He closes his eyes and slowly, as though falling into sleep, melts back into Bruce.

"Ow," Bruce says. "What am I lying on?" Tony helps him up, carries him back to the jet. While Tony's taking off the suit, Bruce and his clothes go through a decon cycle and come out free of excess roentgens.

"How do you feel?" Tony asks, as he watches Bruce button his shirt.

Bruce frowns slightly; his abstracted expression looks as if he's doing some kind of internal inventory. "Actually, I feel great. Like I just had a massage and a workout and a day at the beach, all rolled into one."

"Excellent. Well, it's time to go get some burgers." Tony claps a little tarradiddle on the bulkhead. "I know a place." He slides into the pilot's seat to start the preflight check and prep them for takeoff.

As they're lifting off, the harsh ground falling away and little eddies of sand and gravel kicking up in the backwash of the rotors, Bruce leans his forehead against the window on his side and looks down. Eventually he turns to Tony and says, "That was--" He stops, as if he's at a loss for words to describe how it was.

"Yeah, I know," Tony says quickly, before he can go on. He doesn't want to be thanked, Tony Stark does not do well with expressions of sincerity and gratitude, he just likes to give people things they need, especially if they don't know that they need them. Especially if those people are Bruce. "We can come back anytime you want to."

"You'd really like to just hang out in this place and play games with the other guy?" Bruce says skeptically.

Tony leans over, to hell with the piloting, the jet can pilot itself for a second, and kisses Bruce. "Yes," he says, "among other activities, that's exactly what I'd like to do," and Bruce smiles, small and private and full of promise.

 

**

 

**Author's Note:**

> White Sands Missile Range is real, it's in New Mexico, and among other things, it's where the first atom bomb was tested. I sincerely hope that my description of a zone that's unsafe for anyone but the Hulk is an exaggeration, but I don't know; it's one of those places that gets blurred on Google maps. Although twice a year, they do open the A-bomb test site, Trinity, to visitors. I have never gone.


End file.
